


Let's Get It On

by ConesOfDunshire



Series: Marvin Gaye [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Lingerie, Locker Room, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConesOfDunshire/pseuds/ConesOfDunshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Bokuaka smut inspired by the <a href="http://phandom-doodles.tumblr.com/post/86601537822/100-kinks-nsfw">100 Kink Challenge</a>. Follow the owls as they navigate new things, discover things they like, maybe a few they don't, and fall a little deeper in love. We're going sandbox style, so there's no linear plot. But there's plenty of smut to go around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kneepads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College Setting: Akaashi has always been a little curious about Bokuto's kneepads. He doesn't mean to let that curiosity get the better of him. But it does.
> 
> Prompt(s): 24. Rimming // 46. Unique to the Pairing

Receive. Set. Spike.

“One more!”

Receive. Set. Spike.

“One more!”

Receive. Set. Spike.

“One more!”

“Bokuto-san, you’ve been saying one more for the past two hours,” Akaashi sighed, rolling his shoulder as it protested mildly.

Across from him, Bokuto was practically jumping up and down, vibrating with energy. “Come on, Akaash, just one more,” he begged. “I have a really good feeling about this one!”

Akaashi sighed again, but he grabbed the final ball from the cart next to him. It was up in the air, and Bokuto received it, sending it back up. Akaashi readied himself, arms above his head. Bokuto was already running, already bracing himself. As Akaashi’s hands made contact with the ball, Bokuto went airborne. The ball sailed away from Akaashi’s fingertips with a light _tap_. Bokuto reared his arm back, then sent it forward. The resounding _smack_ of his hand slapping the ball was quickly followed by the _slam_ as it hit the ground.

“WOO HOO!” Bokuto cheered as he landed, pumping his fist in victory.

“Nice kill,” Akaashi nodded.

“It was pretty nice, wasn’t it?” Bokuto laughed, hands resting on his hips. “Your toss was great, the perfect height. We really do make the best team, don’t we?”

“I suppose,” Akaashi conceded, already ducking under the net to collect the balls scattered across the gym.

“Hey!” Bokuto barked.

“Hey what?” Akaashi asked, collecting the two balls closest to him.

“Where’s my reward?” Bokuto asked incredulously.

“My compliment was your reward.”

“Akaaaaashiiiiiii,” Bokuto whined, slumping against the volleyball net. “I might whither and die without it! Do you want that on your conscience?”

“I might be able to leave practice on time for once,” Akaashi mused, tucking another ball into his arms.

“Akaaaaaashiiiiiiiii,” Bokuto garbled.

Akaashi sighed, relenting easily—as he usually did with the older man. He returned to the net, leaned up the short distance between himself and Bokuto, and kissed the older man through the opening. It was brief, little more than the feather-light press of his lips, but it was enough to put Bokuto on cloud nine.

“Help me clean these up,” Akaashi ordered gently, passing the balls to Bokuto under the net.

“Yes, sir!” Bokuto cheered.

This was the way practices had been since Akaashi moved up to university and joined Bokuto’s college team. It reminded him of their early days at Fukurodani, testing the waters with the other members, working on new combinations. At least this time, the teammates were much nicer at the start.

And there was a lot more kissing now.

When they managed to get all the balls back in the cart, Akaashi sent Bokuto off to the locker room. His showers lasted almost twice as long as Akaashi’s, and the younger man had timed everything out perfectly. He returned the cart to the storage room, shut off the lights, and padded into the locker room a few minutes later to hear Bokuto humming off key as the water ran. He clicked the lock shut behind them for some privacy—no one would be coming by, but it was always a safe bet to take the precaution around here. Bokuto _did_ enjoy walking around in the buff sometimes.

Akaashi turned around, prepared to step into the shower and scrub off the dirt of the day. But a few steps into the humid room, he came to a dead halt. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to see the clothes scattered across the floor. And yet, it always did.

Bokuto Koutarou was one of the messiest people Akaashi had ever met. He wasn’t dirty by any means—in fact, he was actually one of the most hygienic people as well. But Bokuto had a bad habit of dropping his things like they weighed a ton and leaving them where they lie. The first time he went over to Bokuto’s house, Akaashi was sure he’d walked onto the scene of an active tornado. No matter what Akaashi did, Bokuto was still like a walking mess. He’d simply started cleaning up after the older man unthinkingly. It was probably the worst thing he could’ve done, enabling Bokuto’s bad behavior. But he did enough of what he thought was nagging. And really, it didn’t bother him, cleaning up after Bokuto. Maybe it should’ve. But it didn’t.

With a habitual sigh, he collected the smattering of clothing off the floor, first the shorts and boxers, then the t-shirt, the socks, and finally the kneepads. Everything was still warm, still slightly damp with sweat and the general humidity of the room. He made his way over to Bokuto’s open duffel bag on the bench in the corner, dropping the load of clothing inside it.

He should’ve been heading for the shower now. There was just enough time to relax under the hot stream of water before Bokuto was finished, probably keen to join Akaashi in his own shower. Akaashi would have to shut that down of course, in the interest of time. They might even be able to swing by the ramen place they liked before it closed if they hurried.

But instead, Akaashi found himself distracted by a pair of kneepads, the kneepads he’d just tucked into the duffel bag. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about them. Akaashi picked them up almost every day after Bokuto shed them, saw Bokuto in them every practice. He’d been wearing them for years, buying the same pair when the old ones wore out.

Akaashi couldn’t help himself as he reached out and grabbed one of them, pulling it back out of the duffel bag. His thumb rolled over a loose stitch near the top hem. They would probably need to be replaced soon. He’d had this pair for over a year. They were well worn. The elastic was starting to go. It was still so warm, and if he brought it to his nose, he knew it would smell faintly of Bokuto’s musk.

Akaashi wondered…

He glanced back at the showers. If his calculations were correct, he had about five minutes before Bokuto would shut the water off—he really did take forever in there. That was enough time to indulge himself. Quickly he stepped out of his gym shoes and socks, then let his pants fall to his ankles. Maybe he should’ve felt a little more ashamed of what he was about to do. But he’d always been so curious.

He took a seat on the bench, pulling a knee to his chest. The material slipped over his foot and up his calves, over his knees and settling around his thighs. They fit snugly—almost a little too snugly. Akaashi snapped the elastic, watching it bounce back against his skin. Had his thighs gotten a little thicker since high school? He _had_ been doing some extra squats during their workouts. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed.

Well, just wearing one wasn’t enough. He needed to match. It took a bit of digging through the duffle bag to find the second kneepad, which he found stuffed inside Bokuto’s shirt. He slid it up his leg to match the first, snapping it around his thigh. There was a decent amount of skin exposed between the bottoms of his boxer-briefs and the tops of the kneepads. Curiously, he stood up and examined his legs from different angles. The kneepads were more comfortable than they thought they’d be. And they stayed up well too. Maybe he’d have to invest in a pair for himself. What would Bokuto say to that, he wondered.

The tips of his fingers were roving over the bare flesh of his thighs idly now, teasing the skin with the backs of his nails. Goose bumps rose beneath his touch. And there was that familiar pang just below his stomach—the one he usually only felt when Bokuto’s touch turned heated. God, what was wrong with him? There was nothing about this moment that should turn him on. Nothing but the kneepads. He wasn’t thinking anymore as a hand trailed upward, palming his erection over his boxers. There was a small, wet stain already dampening the cloth. The other hand dipped beneath the kneepad, snapping the elastic against his thigh again. It felt so good.

It was a moment before Akaashi realized something had happened. He stood immobile, not even breathing. It was eerily silent in the locker room.

The water was off.

Akaashi had never moved so fast in his life, grabbing his pants off the floor and pulling them up his legs. He’d worry about getting the kneepads off later. Right now, he had to cover them up, somehow bury the evidence. He’d barely managed to slide them up his hips when Bokuto flung the shower curtain open and stepped into view, a towel around his waist.

If Akaashi was turned on before, this was only making it worse. Seeing Bokuto literally glistening, raking a hand through his wet hair, all his glorious muscles exposed—it was enough make Akaashi inhale sharply, his cock giving an angry twitch. He shifted his weight, doing his best to hide his obvious erection.

Bokuto’s eyebrows rose in surprise when he spotted Akaashi, still mostly clothed and unshowered. “You okay?” he asked, tipping his head in thought.

“Yes. Fine,” Akaashi replied tersely.

“Well, hurry up, Kaashi! I’m hungry!” Bokuto laughed.

“I’ll just… Shower at home,” Akaashi said.

“What? Why? Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?”

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi wished Bokuto would just leave well enough alone, turn away and get dressed so Akaashi could force himself to unwind. But instead, the older man took a few quick strides, stopping in front of Akaashi and lifting a hand to his forehead. Akaashi wanted to step away, but instead he closed his eyes as he leaned into Bokuto’s warm touch.

“Heeeeeey, Akaaaaaashi,” Bokuto murmured.

Even with his eyes closed, he knew that Bokuto’s face had spread into a wide grin. That tone was so familiar. For one so generally lacking in awareness, Bokuto always seemed to be able to read Akaashi. And right now, it was probably pointedly obvious that he was turned on. He opened his eyes to confirm his suspicions and found Bokuto staring down at the tent in his pants. It was too late to make a difference, but he shifted anyway.

“Feeling a little frisky, are we?” Bokuto teased, taking another step forward. “It’s okay, you know. I was kinda feeling it too.”

“You’re _always_ feeling it,” Akaashi countered weakly.

“Only ‘cause it’s you,” Bokuto replied.

His eyes raked up Akaashi’s chest, stopping to stare at the younger man’s lips. A hand came to rest against Akaashi’s cheeks.

“We should go back to your apartment,” Akaashi tried.

“But I don’t wanna wait,” Bokuto murmured. “I want you now. And it sorta seems like you want me now too. Do you want me, Akaashi?”

“I do… It’s not… I…” Akaashi was losing himself quickly as Bokuto’s thumb rolled against his bottom lip. “We shouldn’t do anything here.”

“Aw, but you didn’t seem to care too much about that last month,” Bokuto chuckled.

“I… Didn’t shower yet,” Akaashi tried once more.

“I like it better when you’re sweaty,” Bokuto purred. “It makes you taste so… Good.”

All coherent arguments were lost in Akaashi’s throat as Bokuto’s lips crashed down against his own, the frantic kiss making his brain go haywire. God, Bokuto’s mouth was sinful. His tongue slicked along Akaashi’s lips, licking into his mouth, tasting every inch. Akaashi’s body was reacting, his hips tilting toward Bokuto’s without him willing them to. Bokuto sensed his quiet desperation, pulling Akaashi flush against him. The friction made Akaashi whimper against Bokuto’s mouth.

Bokuto’s lips pulled into a smirk. “You like that?” he murmured.

Akaashi opened his mouth to retort, but Bokuto rolled his hips again, and this time Akaashi moaned. Bokuto’s grin only widened.

Akaashi wasn’t prepared for Bokuto to drop to his knees, hitting the concrete with a gentle tap. The haze that had clouded his brain—a combination of the room’s humidity and the heavy arousal—dulled his usually quick reaction time. As a result, Bokuto’s fingers were already curling around the waistband of Akaashi’s pants before he even realized what was happening.

“B-Bokuto-san, wait,” Akaashi breathed, his fingers pushing weakly against Bokuto’s shoulders.

Bokuto peered up at Akaashi, tilting his head again in a silent question. Akaashi’s protest died on his lips. Why was he stopping Bokuto again? He looked so good on his knees, fingers twitching eagerly around the elastic of Akaashi’s waistband. He couldn’t even think anymore.

“Can I?” Bokuto asked.

“Yes,” Akaashi sighed.

Bokuto didn’t need telling twice as he tugged Akaashi’s pants down his hips. They dropped down his thighs, pooling around his ankles. And then, everything stilled.

“Wait… What are you… Are those my…”

Ah. Akaashi remembered in an instant why he had been shunning Bokuto’s advances so avidly.

The kneepads.

Oh, he’d never be able to look at Bokuto again. This was the most uncomfortable silence that had ever stretched out between them. Sure, maybe Akaashi had slipped on a sweatshirt of Bokuto’s before, and he’d worn the older boy’s t-shirts to bed sometimes. But this was embarrassing. This was ridiculous. This was so… Intimate. Maybe that wasn’t even the right word.

Akaashi waited. And waited. The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Would they be standing like this for the rest of their lives, doomed not to speak or move ever again? Would the team find them frozen here like statues on Monday morning? Or would a janitor find them even sooner? He had locked the door, but a few people had keys. Maybe—

Oh… Those were Bokuto’s hands on his thighs.

Akaashi forced himself to look down. There was Bokuto, his gaze locked on those few inches of bare skin above the kneepads. His left hand was tracing over the taut flesh, pressing harder than Akaashi had been a few minutes ago. It was more insistent, like he wanted to trace a path across the skin. His thumb dipped beneath Akaashi’s briefs, dragging the material up his thigh, exposing a few more inches of pale thigh.

“B-Bokuto-san,” Akaashi managed, his voice breaking.

Bokuto’s gaze snapped up to meet Akaashi’s, and Akaashi sucked in a deep breath. The intensity in Bokuto’s golden orbs made his heartbeat stutter in his chest. It was more than that though. It was… Possessive. Like seeing Akaashi in these kneepads awoke some primal instinct in him. Bokuto didn’t break eye contact as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Akaashi’s thigh. His teeth grazed the skin as he sucked, leaving a small, purple bruise to bloom beneath his lips.

“Keiji…”

This time, Akaashi actually whimpered. The low growl of Bokuto’s voice was one he didn’t hear often. But when he did, he knew he was in for something… Different.

“Koutarou,” he whispered.

“Shirt. Off,” Bokuto commanded.

Akaashi complied without hesitation, sliding his t-shirt up and over his head, dropping it on top of Bokuto’s duffle bag. Bokuto’s free hand slid up Akaashi’s thighs, palming him through his briefs. Akaashi whined as his hips lurched forward, desperate for more. The other hand was snaking up the back of his briefs now, exposing a cheek to the warm air. His nails dug into the soft flesh.

“Were you trying to tease me, Keiji?” he growled against Akaashi’s skin, sucking another dark mark just above the first.

“N-no…”

“I think you were,” Bokuto purred.

This side of Bokuto always made Akaashi’s knees weak, like the sheer intensity was threatening to drag him down. “I… I was just… Curious,” Akaashi reasoned.

“I’ll bet you were,” Bokuto murmured. He grasped Akaashi’s cock through the thin fabric, now thoroughly wet with precum. “Naughty boy, Keiji.”

“Ah!” Akaashi gasped, hands grasping desperately at Bokuto’s hair. “P-please…”

“You want me, Keiji?” Bokuto mused, gripping Akaashi’s cheek firmly, digging his nails deeper, leaving gouges beneath them. “You want me to do naughty things to you?”

“Y-yes,” Akaashi whimpered.

And then, without warning, Bokuto’s hands fell away, leaving Akaashi hot and wanting. He looked down at Bokuto with wide eyes, words of desperation sticking on his tongue.

“Underwear off,” Bokuto ordered. “Leave the kneepads on.”

Akaashi had the briefs down around his ankles in a second, freeing his aching cock to the warm air. He had expected Bokuto to lean forward and take him in his mouth. But instead, Bokuto’s hands grasped his hips and pushed, spinning the younger boy away from him.

“What…” Akaashi started.

“Bend over. Legs apart.

Under normal circumstances, Akaashi would have questioned Bokuto, would’ve pressed the older man to figure out what was coming. But on the rare occasion that Bokuto took control, Akaashi felt himself overwhelmed, filled with the thrill of the unknown. And so, he complied, bracing his hands against the cool metal of the bench and arching his back, thrusting his ass out toward Bokuto.

The older man hummed in satisfaction, and now there were hard, calloused hands smoothing over Akaashi’s thighs, palming his cheeks and spreading him open. His thumb ran dry over Akaashi’s twitching hole, teasing the puckered skin. Akaashi inhaled sharply.

“Beg,” Bokuto commanded simply.

“Please, Koutarou,” Akaashi groaned. “Give me something, anything, please. I want you. I can’t, I need— _AH!”_

Something hot and wet ran wide across his entrance. Slowly, Bokuto’s tongue dragged over the hole, broad sweeps that teased and toyed and made Akaashi’s entire body ache. He circled it thoroughly, tracing it, over and over again, making Akaashi whine. The teasing was enough to drive Akaashi insane.

And then, without warning, Bokuto shoved his tongue inside.

Akaashi shouted, tipping forward as his weight fell to his forearms. His hips jolted backwards on instinct toward Bokuto’s hot mouth, desperate for more. But Bokuto was not so giving. His fingers curled around Akaashi’s hips, controlling his movements. His tongue thrust in and out in short, quick bursts. It was so tight, so unbelievably hot, and Akaashi was keening with every flick of the agile muscle. Bokuto’s fingers continued to hold his hips steady, while his thumbs smoothed over the taut skin against the backs of Akaashi’s thighs.

Akaashi wanted more. He realized with a start that his cock was dripping, twitching hard against his stomach in desperation. He shifted his weight to one arm and snaked a hand down his chest, over his stomach, barely grazing his cock when suddenly Bokuto’s hand was around his wrist, pulling his hand away.

Akaashi shouted, and then shouted again when Bokuto’s mouth pulled away, leaving him empty and frustrated.

“You think you get to touch yourself?” Bokuto asked. He pressed a kiss to Akaashi’s cheek, tantalizingly close to his hole, yet all too far away. “And why is that?”

“I need it,” Akaashi hissed. His hips jerked wildly, desperate for something, friction or contact or just _anything_ to relieve the blinding pressure building behind his eyelids.

“Hmm, I don’t think so. I don’t think you want it enough,” Bokuto mused. This time he kissed just above Akaashi’s twitching hole, then just below it, teasing it with each gentle suck.

Akaashi actually stamped a foot in frustration. He could feel Bokuto smiling against his backside. “Please, Koutarou,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I do want it. I want you. Please.”

This time, it wasn’t Bokuto’s tongue that pressed inside him, but two slicked-up fingers. Akaashi’s back arched, his legs trembling violently. The fingers were barely lubricated, probably with Bokuto’s saliva, and the drag of them in and out burned. But it was friction, and Akaashi was desperate for more. With Bokuto’s hand around his wrist, he was given a little latitude, hips rocking desperately against Bokuto’s hand.

“Tell me what you want, Keiji,” Bokuto murmured, kissing up Akaashi’s spine. “Tell me _exactly_ what you want.”

“You, I want you,” Akaashi gasped, releasing another pained shout as Bokuto curled those fingers against his prostate.

“That’s not enough, Keiji,” Bokuto chuckled.

His other hand was gone from Akaashi’s hip, wrapping around and settling instead against Akaashi’s thigh. He snapped the kneepad without warning, and Akaashi felt another frustrated yell breaking through his throat. It was too much—the fingers inside him, the slight pain against his thighs, the ache of his neglected cock.

The words tumbled from his lips easily.

“I want you to fuck me, please. I want you inside me… Your cock… Inside me.”

Bokuto drew up to his full height, curling around Akaashi protectively. He pressed a kiss between Akaashi’s shoulder blades. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he murmured.

Akaashi wanted to cry with relief as he heard the rustle of the towel falling away behind him. Even Bokuto’s fingers withdrawing from him didn’t mar his happiness. There was movement all around him, the sound of Bokuto digging through his bag, the tear of foil, the click of a bottle opening, wet, slick sounds that made him keen. He should’ve known Bokuto would have a condom and lube in his bag. Always ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Not that Akaashi was complaining.

Bokuto’s mouth was near Akaashi’s ear now, blowing warm air over his skin. “Say it again, Keiji,” Bokuto whispered.

Akaashi shivered. His fingers curled around the edge of the bench. “Please,” he whimpered. “Please fuck me.”

He was rewarded immediately with the tip of Bokuto’s slick cock pressing at his entrance. Bokuto lined up their hips, fingers digging into Akaashi’s hipbones. There was a moment of hesitance, the locker room falling into silence once more. Neither of them even seemed to be breathing.

And then, without further delay, Bokuto slid inside Akaashi’s tight heat, sheathing himself to the hilt.

Akaashi threw his head back, an embarrassing sound ripping from his throat, something between a howl and a whine. It was joined by Bokuto’s growl as Akaashi’s hole flexed around the new intruder. No matter how many times they did this, Akaashi always felt like he would never adjust.

Bokuto began a series of slow, shallow thrusts. Akaashi was crumbling beneath him, the pain and pleasure culminating in a chorus of sensations that had him whimpering with every push. As Akaashi adjusted to the fullness, Bokuto’s thrusts deepened, hips snapping against his ass and filling the room with soft slapping noises.

“Koutarou,” Akaashi keened.

“What’s wrong, Keiji?” Bokuto grunted. “Not good enough?”

He was right. It was so good, Bokuto’s thrusts increasing in speed, his body curling around Akaashi’s. But it wasn’t enough. He needed something more. Anything.

“Please,” Akaashi whimpered. “More… Please…”

“So needy,” Bokuto teased.

There was a shift, a tilt of Bokuto’s hips. And then suddenly he was slamming against Akaashi’s prostate. Akaashi shouted louder than ever this time, his hips rolling back to meet Bokuto’s thrusts. One of Bokuto’s hands shifted back to Akaashi’s thighs, fingertips dipping beneath the kneepads.

“Please, please don’t stop, please,” Akaashi panted. He was meeting each of Bokuto’s thrusts now, feeling himself losing his faculties. All he knew was that he wanted more. “Please… Harder… Faster… Please.”

Bokuto was happy to comply, thrusting without abandon now. He was losing his accuracy as the intensity swelled. His slams to Akaashi’s prostate came without any sort of pattern. Akaashi thought he might be dying now.

“Please! Koutarou! I need… Touch me! I’m… I’m almost…” Akaashi garbled nonsensically.

“Are you gonna cum, Keiji?” Bokuto huffed. He seemed to be losing himself too. But still, he maintained that modicum of control. “Beg for it.”

“Please touch me,” Akaashi gasped. “Please, I need you! Please, Koutarou! Let me cum!”

Bokuto slipped his hand up Akaashi’s thigh, brushing against his balls, and then his fingers wrapped around Akaashi’s aching length.

This time, Akaashi screamed, his eyes shooting wide open. He was overwhelmed by the sudden stimulation. Now he was _sure_ he was dying. It only took four quick pumps of his cock, and then he was cumming hard and hot over Bokuto’s hand, spilling onto the floor below them. His repeated shouts of Bokuto’s name echoed off the walls of the locker room.

Akaashi’s hole tightened reflexively, and Bokuto’s hips stuttered out of rhythm. “Shit… Keiji… I’m… Fuck!” Bokuto shouted as he came, groaning into Akaashi’s hair.

And then, they stilled. The only sounds that filled the room were their hiccupping breaths as they tried to return to normal. Akaashi nearly collapsed in a heap, held up by Bokuto’s iron grip.

“Oh my god,” Bokuto breathed, shattering the heavy silence.

“That was…” Akaashi started.

“Fucking amazing,” Bokuto finished. “You’re so amazing, Keiji. Holy shit. Like, seriously, you look so good in these,” he said as he plucked a kneepad again, snapping the elastic against the back of Akaashi’s thigh.

Akaashi’s entire body vibrated, still sensitive from the overstimulation. He tilted his gaze back toward Bokuto. “I really was just curious,” he noted.

Bokuto pressed a kiss to his neck, his jaw, his chin, finally meeting his lips in the softest contact. Akaashi reached behind him to let his fingers wind through Bokuto’s hair, bringing him in deeper.

“So…” Bokuto murmured when he finally pulled away. “Think you’ll wear ‘em for me more often?”

“They’re actually quite comfortable,” Akaashi said. “I may have to get myself a pair for practice.”

Bokuto’s expression fell in an instant. “No. No, no, no, no. No way,” he shook his head rapidly. “You can’t.”

“And why not?” Akaashi asked, quirking a brow.

“Nobody else gets to see how good you look in them. Just me okay?” Bokuto insisted, smoothing his hands against Akaashi’s thighs unthinkingly. There was that hint of possessiveness again, making Akaashi’s knees tremble. “They’ll try to steal you away. ‘Cause you’re just too hot.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes, feeling a grin tugging at his lips. “Well, maybe I’ll stick to wearing yours then.” Bokuto’s face lit up once more. “It can be your new reward,” Akaashi added.

“All right! I’m gonna be the best!” Bokuto exclaimed, suddenly full of energy once more as he leapt away from Akaashi, pumping a fist for emphasis. “And you’re gonna have to wear them all the time!”

“We’ll see,” Akaashi countered, sliding the kneepads off and stuffing them back into the duffle bag.

Bokuto whined in reply, vowing to get Akaashi back in them as soon as possible. Akaashi just rolled his eyes. He feigned disinterest, only because he couldn’t admit to himself just how much he was looking forward to putting them on again.


	2. Long Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-College (Bokuto)/College (Akaashi) Setting: After graduation, Bokuto is traveling with the Japanese National team. Akaashi is still in his last year of college back in Japan. They have to get a little creative while Bokuto is away.
> 
> 4\. Masturbation // 30. Phone sex

_> >[Keiji-Bear]: I had a dream about you last night. But I probably shouldn’t talk about it while I’m at work._

Bokuto had been staring at the email on his phone screen for the past hour, since his alarm had gone off and he’d opened up the phone to find a message from his beloved Akaashi. He’d expected a good morning message or maybe a reminder not to forget his elbow brace when he left for training—Bokuto was out of the country, and Akaashi had taken to messaging him in the mornings. He had managed to make it onto the Japanese national team right out of college, which meant tournaments and camps and lots of traveling while Akaashi was still in his final year of school. Most recently, it was a two-week training camp out of the country, which meant a bit of a time difference. Akaashi was probably at his internship by now.

Of all the things Bokuto might have expected to see when he woke up this morning, this was definitely not one of them—an email that had him bolting up in his bed, pressing the screen to his nose, and rereading it so many times he could see it behind his eyelids. He wanted to reply, wanted to ask Akaashi if it meant what he thought he meant. But every time his thumb stretched for the REPLY button, he couldn’t quite make it there.

Bokuto could admit to himself that he wasn’t the most perceptive guy. He liked to call Akaashi his brain—though the younger man was quick to tell him he was wrong. Still, this seemed pretty cut and dry. Akaashi had probably had a dirty dream about him. And it was to be expected. Bokuto’d had three dirty dreams about Akaashi in the past week alone. They’d been together long enough for the shame to be lost. Now he was just interested—and frankly a little turned on.

But what if he was wrong? What if it _wasn’t_ a sex dream? Akaashi really didn’t talk about that kind of stuff unless they were together, usually where other people couldn’t hear. Bokuto always felt like he was the one with sex on the brain, constantly thinking about Akaashi, all the things he wanted to do to the younger man, all the things they’d done, that they could do. He was the one nuzzling into Akaashi at night, the one who would draw up behind him in a crowd and start the subtle touching that would eventually lead to wild bathroom fucking.

This was different. This was off-course. This was a wild card.

And Bokuto had no idea what to do.

So, when Kuroo began grumbling awake in the bed across the room, Bokuto set about his morning. He showered quickly, dried and styled his hair, and made his way out into the kitchen before the grumbling cat was even untangled from his sheets.

“How long before practice?” he mumbled without even lifting his face from the pillow.

“Like, an hour,” Bokuto replied. “Get up and eat.”

He received only a low groan in response, and Bokuto laughed as he headed out to the main room. As it was every morning, breakfast was already there waiting for them. Bokuto wasn’t sure how the hotel staff got in and out so quietly, but he wasn’t complaining as he pulled a heaping bowl of rice toward him and returned to staring at his phone. Akaashi’s message was still looking back at him.

It took Kuroo exactly seven minutes to rise from the grave and shuffle out into the main room. He looked like death warmed over, as he did most mornings. There was no exchange of conversation as he poured himself a mug of coffee and disappeared behind it.

Bokuto was still staring at his phone.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kuroo asked suddenly.

Bokuto looked up to see Kuroo glaring at him. “What do you mean?” he shot back.

“You spend most mornings waiting to talk my ear off, now you look like you want to set your phone on fire,” Kuroo noted.

Bokuto glared at the screen again. He could probably ask Kuroo for advice. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’d ever told the guy—hell, he’d walked in on Bokuto and Akaashi in more than enough compromising situations. Compared to that, this was almost vanilla.

“Well, Akaashi texted me this morning,” he began.

Kuroo blinked at Bokuto, waiting. “And?” he pressed.

“He said he had a dream about me.”

This earned Kuroo’s attention. The words seemed to perk him up. “Ohoho? Details?” he insisted.

“There were none, he just said he couldn’t talk about it at work,” Bokuto replied.

Kuroo deflated as quickly as he’d inflated. “Boring,” he blanched, taking another draw from his coffee. “Tell me when it gets good.”

“But like, was it for sure a sex dream though, right?” Bokuto asked.

“Probably not,” Kuroo shrugged.

“What?! Why not?!”

“If it _was_ a sex dream, he just would’ve let you know that, right?” Kuroo noted. “Even if he can’t tell you all the juicy details?”

“Maybe,” Bokuto conceded.

“Doesn’t he live for teasing you, too? If he wanted you to know it was a sex dream, you probably would’ve _known_ it was a sex dream,” Kuroo added. “He’s Akaashi Keiji, he loves getting you worked up. Remember when he wore your clothes to the library because he knew you liked how he looked in them?”

“Okay, I get that,” Bokuto nodded. “But like, what else could it be then? Like, what else can’t he talk about at work?”

“Maybe he committed a crime,” Kuroo shrugged.

“A dream crime isn’t illegal,” Bokuto scoffed. “Plus he could just _tell_ me if that was it, they don’t monitor his messages. Sex is the only thing that isn’t really safe for work when they don’t monitor your messages, ‘cause it _turns you on_ at work. Isn’t that was NSFW means? That’s what you said, ‘cause I thought it meant ‘Never Sip Fine Wine.’”

There was a snort from behind them, and both tall heads of hair turned to find Oikawa standing in the doorway of his bedroom. He looked like he’d been up for hours, judging by how coifed he was already.

“Something we can do for you?” Kuroo asked, his tone retracting a bit. He didn’t make his feelings for their roommates during these two weeks a secret. “Did you run out of moisturizer? Lift cream? Tightening serum? Maybe it’s time for your first mud mask of the day?”

“I reserve my mud masks for every other Saturday, thank you,” Oikawa corrected lightly, joining them at the table and pulling a bowl toward himself. “Please don’t do them more than one a week, Tetsu-chan. Your face will look like the Sahara and you’ll hurt my soul. Now, what were we talking about?”

“Your skin care regimen, I thought,” Kuroo murmured, flicking open his newspaper and hiding behind it.

“I didn’t think anyone under 50 read the paper! Tetsu-chan, you’ve aged so well!” Oikawa cheered, then turned his attention to Bokuto. “Whatever it was it sounded exciting!”

Oikawa also didn’t make it a secret that he liked Bokuto more than Kuroo. And Bokuto really didn’t mind him much. Maybe he could get some better advice. “Well…” he began. “Say your boyfriend tells you he has a dream about you, but he can’t talk about it while he’s at work. He doesn’t really tell you much more. So… Does that mean it’s a sex dream?”

Oikawa’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows had risen off his face and behind his bangs. “A dream he can’t talk about at work, huh?” he noted, a smirk pulling at his lips. “It certainly sounds like a sex dream. Or maybe he just dreamed someone finally superglued your chatty little mouth together.”

“But… Why would that be… NSFW?” Bokuto asked, eyebrows screwing up in confusion.

“You’re an idiot, Shittykawa.”

That was the final occupant of the suite, Iwaizumi, as he padded out of the bedroom he was sharing with Oikawa to join them at the table. He looked decidedly less put together than his brunette friend—actually he looked like he’d just woken up. He dropped down next to Kuroo with a heavy thump.

“Do _you_ think it was a sex dream?” Kuroo asked, peering over the top of the paper at their newest companion.

“Probably,” Iwaizumi shrugged, grabbing right for the coffee. “But he’s gonna have to ask the guy to know, instead of probing you two single losers.”

Kuroo just chuckled, but Oikawa made a noise of indignation that sounded almost like a squawk. Bokuto, on the other hand, opened his phone once more to the message. He read it again before _finally_ hitting REPLY.

_> >[Me]: kinda sounds like it was a dirty dream… were you having a dirty dream about me akaashi?_

He only let himself read it once before pressing send.

Bokuto might have learned to think things through since he’d started dating Akaashi. But he still wasn’t an overthinker. He had to know. And soon.

It was another hour before he finally got a reply. He, Kuroo, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi had joined the rest of their team in their locker room inside the enormous gymnasium. The quiet chatter wasn’t enough to drown out the buzz of Bokuto’s phone as it vibrated against the wooden bench. He grabbed for it so fast, it almost clattered to the floor.

_> >[Keiji-Bear]: Would you be angry with me if it was dirty?_

This time Bokuto actually did drop his phone. Thankfully, it landed safely in his bag. He glanced around furtively and noticed only Kuroo watching him, that stupid grin plastered on his face. Bokuto looked away, doing his best to ignore it. He had to deal with this before practice. A shaky hand reached into his bag and pulled his phone back out.

_> >[Me]: well i wouldnt be mad, but i might have to punish you akaashi!!_

It didn’t take Akaashi more than a minute to reply.

_> >[Keiji-Bear]: What if the dream was about you punishing me?_

“Oh my god,” Bokuto breathed. He was trapped in his own world now, fingers tapping furiously against the keys.

_> >[Me]: were you being naughty? did i get to spank you?_

_> >[Keiji-Bear]: Maybe… And maybe you had to tie me up for being so bad._

“Fuck,” Bokuto hissed.

“Dude, keep it in your pants.”

Bokuto almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of Kuroo’s voice just behind him. He didn’t even get to reply, snapping his phone shut before Kuroo could see and stuffing it into his duffel bag.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Bokuto insisted, adjusting his shorts for good measure. “Come on, let’s practice. I got this.”

“You’re like half-hard, but whatever,” Kuroo laughed.

That earned a few curious glances from their teammates, but this wasn’t anything they weren’t used to when it came to Bokuto and Kuroo. With a few eye rolls and a request from one of the setters to work with anyone else for the start of practice, everyone returned to business as usual.

Bokuto was fired up, that much was certain. He couldn’t get those messages out of his head. Akaashi had dreamed about _him_. Akaashi had thought about _him_ while he was sleeping. It wasn’t just the other way around. Bokuto’s fingers were itching to be back around his phone, asking Akaashi just exactly what he’d done to need punishing. Instead, he funneled that frenetic energy into spiking.

…

“Bro, I need you to be anywhere but our hotel room tonight.”

Kuroo turned to look at Bokuto with a grimace. Bokuto was panting and coughing, having just run from the locker room halfway back to the hotel in hopes of catching Kuroo before he settled in for the night. Thankfully, Kuroo was a slow walker after practice.

“What? Why would I do that?” Kuroo asked, turning on the wing spiker with a scowl. “I’m tired, I wanna nap.”

“You have to go somewhere else,” Bokuto panted. “You just have to. I need this.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I need our room. I need it in a bad way,” Bokuto insisted.

“You’re gonna have to tell me why before I say yes.”

With a huff, Bokuto pulled his phone from his pocket, opened up Akaashi’s most recent message, and turned the phone toward Kuroo. Amber eyes scanned the screen, growing wider with every sentence.

_> >[Keiji-Bear]: Can we talk tonight? I’m home from class and I miss you. I miss hearing your voice. I’ll tell you about my dream, too._

“Dude…”

“I know!” Bokuto exclaimed.

“I guess I can make myself scarce,” Kuroo conceded. “But you owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Bokuto scoffed.

“What are you gonna do about the Hetero Homies?” Kuroo asked, shouldering his bag a little higher.

“Oikawa and Iwaizumi?” Bokuto clarified. “It’s Friday. This is the night they sneak off to have sex. I’m in the clear.”

Kuroo just laughed, clapping Bokuto on the back as he headed off toward town instead of back to the hotel.

Bokuto flew back to the room faster than he’d ever run in his entire life. When he was on the elevator, he fired off a message to Akaashi.

_> >[Me]: u almost ready? im back to the hotel._

Bokuto exploded over the threshold into the room, dropping his bag at his feet and tripping over himself to get to the bedroom. He’d literally never been more excited for anything in his life. Deciding to keep the light off, he climbed into his bed and leaned back against the headboard. His hands clasped his phone tight enough to dent it. Akaashi hadn’t messaged him back yet.

Well, Bokuto hadn’t gotten this far in life by waiting for things to happen. So, with a decisive tap, he pressed the call button next to Akaashi’s name.

The dial tones seemed to go on forever. And then, a click that made Bokuto’s heart stop.

_“Hi…”_

Oh god, that voice made Bokuto realize how achingly hard he already was. It sounded distant, probably on speakerphone. Bokuto palmed himself through his shorts to ease the pressure, releasing a shaky exhale at the contact.

“Hey,” he murmured.

_“I missed hearing your voice,”_ Akaashi said quietly.

“I miss literally every single thing about you, so I win,” Bokuto replied.

_“Is that so?”_

“Well… Maybe you won last night though,” Bokuto noted. “Sounded like you needed to be punished. What was your dream about?”

_“I was in our bed… You weren’t home, I was by myself… I was wearing your shirt, and I was touching myself… I wanted you with me. I was moaning your name… And you then caught me. You watched me from the door. You said I was a bad boy… A bad boy not to wait for you… You had to spank me to punish me for being impatient. You made me count… And then… And then you tied my wrists behind my back, and… And you took me from behind…”_

“God,” Bokuto groaned, leaning his head back against the headboard. “I wish I could catch you doing that. I love watching you touch yourself.”

There was a quiet whimper at the other end of the line, and the sound went straight to Bokuto’s cock. He gritted his teeth, grasping himself more firmly through his shorts. Bokuto thought that it might’ve been the sexiest noise he’d ever heard as Akaashi whimpered quietly into the receiver.

But Bokuto was wrong.

_“Koutarou…”_

Oh. There it was. Bokuto had to resist the temptation to cum right then and there.

“Keijiiiiii,” Bokuto sang, trying to maintain his playful air. “Are you touching yourself already?”

_“Yes,”_ Akaashi gasped without hesitation. _“I tried, but I couldn’t wait.”_

“What a bad boy,” Bokuto murmured.

Akaashi drew in a sharp breath, followed by a quick shaky exhale. Bokuto froze. Well… Akaashi had wanted to be punished.

“Keiji,” he said, his voice dropping low. “You’re such a bad boy. Couldn’t even wait for me to get back from practice. So naughty. I wish I was there with you. I think I’d have to give you a spanking to teach you how to be patient.”

He could hear Akaashi’s breath hitch again on the other end. _“How would you do it?”_ he asked.

“Hmmm,” Bokuto hummed. His thumb rolled over the head of his cock. Even through his shorts and boxers, he could feel precum dampening the tip. “I think… I would want you on you hands and knees in front of me. You have such a nice ass. I like running my hands over it. And just when you get used to my hands on your skin, I’ll surprise you with the first smack.”

Akaashi gasped this time, and loudly. _“Keep going,”_ he breathed.

“I’d smooth my hand over the skin,” Bokuto continued, closing his eyes, imagining Akaashi on all fours in front of him. “Your skin is so sensitive, so it would probably be warm and pink already. Might even be a handprint there. But it wouldn’t stop me from giving you another smack. And another. And another. I want your ass red and stinging, so you remember that you’ve been a bad boy.”

The low moan from the other end of the line made Bokuto’s cock twitch angrily.

_“I’ll be good for you, Koutarou,”_ Akaashi said, his voice barely above a whisper. _“Just for you. I promise.”_

“You’re gonna be good for me, Keiji?” Bokuto asked. “You gonna listen to what I say? Do what I tell you to do?”

_“Yes,”_ Akaashi gasped. _“Anything you want. Whatever you want.”_

“Good boy,” Bokuto purred.

_“Yes!”_ Akaashi whimpered.

Bokuto was working himself hard over his clothes. But the friction was getting to be too much. He couldn’t stand the fabric barrier any longer. One-handed, he managed to slide his shorts and boxers down his hips. His cock sprang free and slapped against his stomach, the tip slick with precum. When his hand closed around the length, he moaned too.

_“I wish you were here,”_ Akaashi gasped. _“I miss you so much.”_

“Tell me what you miss,” Bokuto urged.

There was a pause, and then Bokuto heard a light tinkle of laughter. It was so rare to hear Akaashi laugh, and (thankfully) even rarer when they were being intimate like this. _“I miss your ridiculous hair… And your goofy smile…Your dumb jokes and the owl puns…”_

Bokuto’s brows came together in consternation, his hand stilling around his length. “None of these sound like good things,” he noted.

Another pause. Then…

_“I miss your cock.”_

“Fuck,” Bokuto hissed, his hand working himself once more. “What do you miss about it?”

_“I miss… Ahh,”_ Akaashi faltered. _“I miss… When you bend me over… And it fills me up… I miss riding it… I miss getting on my knees and… And sucking it…”_

“I definitely miss all those things too,” Bokuto sighed.

_“I miss your fingers in my hair, pushing your cock to the back of my throat,”_ Akaashi pressed on. _“Treating me like your filthy little slut.”_

Bokuto’s hand stuttered. Those words almost had him cumming again. He had to grip the base of his cock to steady himself. But he recovered quickly enough. “You like that?” he asked. “You like being my little slut?”

_“Yes!” Akaashi cried. “Your slut… Just yours… Doing whatever you want, whenever you want… Filling me up with your cum like the slut I am… Yours… I… AHHH!”_

Akaashi’s sudden cry rang through the speaker. Bokuto’s hand, now slick with precum, froze around his cock once more. “Keiji,” he murmured. “Are you… Are you fingering yourself?”

_“Yes,”_ Akaashi replied, still no hesitation in his voice.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Bokuto groaned. “Tell me what you look like right now.”

_“I’m… I’m on our bed… On my knees, my shoulders pressed to the mattress. One hand wrapped around my cock…”_

“Presented so nicely for me, like a little present,” Bokuto hummed. His hand was on the move once more, working his cock at an agonizingly slow pace. “How many fingers do you have inside you, Keiji?”

_“Two.”_

“That’s not enough for you though, is it, you little slut?” Bokuto asked.

_“N-no,”_ Akaashi whined.

Bokuto was getting bolder. Every whine, every moan from the other end was spurring him on, making him a little braver. “Not as good as my cock, huh?”

_“Nothing is as good as your cock,”_ Akaashi huffed.

Bokuto grunted as his hand sped up a bit, reacting on instinct to Akaashi’s desperate tone. “My perfect little cock slut… Add another finger,” he ordered.

There was a shuffling sound, probably Akaashi moving against the sheets where the phone was. But he clearly heard the slick sound of lube leaving the bottle, followed shortly by the moan as Akaashi stuffed himself full.

_“It’s… It’s tight,”_ Akaashi whined. _“I wish… I wish it was you… I wish you were here.”_

“I wish I was there too,” Bokuto admitted.

_“What would you do to me if you were here?”_ Akaashi panted.

“With you all bent over… Ass in the air… Just begging to get fucked into the mattress?” Bokuto mused.

_“Yes,”_ Akaashi panted.

“Your ass would still be red from your punishment, and I’d have to admire my handiwork. But I wouldn’t ignore your tight little hole,” Bokuto replied. “It would be my fingers inside you instead, first two, then three, maybe even four, stretching you open, scissoring your puckered little hole. I like when it flexes around my fingers. It’s just begging for my cock.”

_“It… It needs you… It… It wants… Wants your cock,”_ Akaashi panted.

“I’d scissor and stretch you while you moaned into the sheets,” Bokuto continued. “Spread my fingers open inside you. Open you up. If you were a good boy, I’d make sure your prostate gets some attention too. You want me to massage your prostate?”

_“Ye-es,”_ Akaashi choked. Bokuto knew he was probably massaging it now, the pads of his fingers working against the tiny gland. _“M-more,”_ Akaashi pleaded.

“You’d look so good on your hands and knees for me. Just ready and waiting. But I don’t think I’d take you that way,” Bokuto said. He twisted his wrist, groaning at the new sensation. “I’d pick you up and have you wrap your legs around my waist. Press you against the wall. Line my cock up with your twitching little hole. But I wouldn’t give it to you yet. I’d make you beg.”

_“Koutarou,”_ Akaashi whined.

If Bokuto closed his eyes, he could see the expression on Akaashi’s face—eyes pinched shut, teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he tried (and failed) to control his noises, nose scrunched and brows drawn. If he focused hard enough, he could almost see the younger man on his knees, his ass in the air and thee fingers sunk into his tight hole.

“Beg for me, Keiji,” Bokuto commanded.

“ _”K-Koutarou,”_ Akaashi whimpered. _“Please… Please fuck me. I need you… Your cock.”_

Bokuto swallowed hard, gulping down another groan. His hand was moving quickly now, up and down his cock in a series of fluid motions. Now with his eyes closed, he could see Akaashi wrapped around his body, slim thighs flexing as he tried to draw Bokuto closer, and his voice…

“More… I wanna hear your voice,” Bokuto murmured.

_“Please Koutarou, I need you. I’m so close… Please, I want to cum… Make me cum, Koutarou…”_

“Fuck, Keiji, I can’t,” Bokuto grunted. His hips were rising off the mattress now as he bucked into his hand. “I’m gonna cum.”

_“Cum with me!”_ Akaashi cried.

“Keiji, fuck,” Bokuto hissed.

_“Koutarou! I’m cumming! Kou—hah!”_

That was all it took for Bokuto to lose it. His hips fell into an erratic rhythm and, with another cry of Bokuto’s name from the other end of the line, he was cumming hot and hard over his hand. He could hear Akaashi coming down from his high, still whimpering Bokuto’s name weakly, hiccupping breaths like he couldn’t quite remember how to breathe properly.

“Keiji,” Bokuto breathed. “That was amazing. You get pretty dirty over the phone.”

_“It would’ve been more amazing if you weren’t thousands of miles away,”_ Akaashi retorted.

“One more week left of the training. One more week, and then I’ll be home,” Bokuto sighed, letting his head fall back against the headboard. “You better be ready.”

_“I’ll buy the big bottle of lube this time,”_ Akaashi replied.

“Wait,” Bokuto perked up. “We’re out already? Didn’t you just buy that one before I left?”

Silence greeted Bokuto’s question. Oh, he wished he could be home right now, seeing the expression on Akaashi’s face. The younger man might’ve even been blushing.

_“I did tell you I missed you, didn’t I?”_ Akaashi mumbled.

Bokuto burst into loud, boisterous laughter. He so rarely was able to give Akaashi grief for anything. Now would have been a perfect opportunity. Maybe it was the distance, or maybe it was the fact that he’d just listened to the man cum while practically sobbing his name.

For whatever the reason, Bokuto found himself feeling merciful.

“Make sure you buy the big bottle,” he noted. “We’re gonna need it.”

After he hung up with Akaashi and washed his hands, he checked his emails. There was one from Kuroo.

_> >[Ass-Cat]: You better not get jizz all over the room._

Bokuto grinned as he replied.

_> >[Me]: Don’t worry, bro. I only got it all over your bed._


	3. Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi finds a magazine in Kuroo and Bokuto’s apartment. He isn’t quite sure whose it is, but he gets a little jealous and deals with it in his own way.
> 
> Prompt(s): 26. Not usual clothing/Dress up // 40. Cross-dressing

After dating Bokuto Koutarou for years, there was just something about Akaashi’s apartment that made him feel unsettled. Not only was it tiny and crowded with the bare minimum amount of furniture, it was just too quiet. He used to turn the television on loud enough to warrant a complaint from the neighbors, but even that wasn’t enough anymore. This was why he spent most of his free time at Bokuto’s place. His and Kuroo’s shared apartment was only a short walk away, so after his morning class on Thursdays, he liked to head straight there.

On these days, Bokuto and Kuroo had class until the early afternoon. But they had long ago given Akaashi a key—well, Bokuto had given it to him, Kuroo had demanded a home-cooked meal once a week as payment for his “invasion of privacy.”

So today, he approached the door marked with the brass 42 (and the paper 0 they’d taped onto the wood after it) with bags from the convenience store in one hand and digging in his pocket for the key with the other. Why he’d agreed to the ridiculous arrangement with pain-in-the-ass Kuroo was beyond him. Maybe he just liked just one night a week where they weren’t eating take out or packaged ramen.

He unlocked the door and shuffled inside. The door hadn’t even completely shut behind him, and immediately, a grimace crossed his face.

It appeared as though a hurricane had blown through the living room. The only uncluttered spot was a circle on the floor where two bodies had probably been sitting only hours before—if the xBox controllers and still-sweating beer can were anything to go by, at least. There were clothes scattered around the room, various takeout containers, empty food packages and beer cans, books and papers and volleyball gear of questionable cleanliness. There was even an overturned lamp.

And Akaashi knew that all of this mess belonged to Kuroo.

But really, this was just par for the course. Bokuto was naturally very neat. This was something that surprised most people when they got to know him. He just tended to keep his own things fairly clean.

Though mess didn't really bother him—which was why he could tolerate living with Kuroo, the human landfill. It seemed as though a cloud of garbage and dirty laundry followed Kuroo wherever he went. Bokuto never seemed to fussed by it.

Akaashi, on the other hand, couldn't stand it.

With a resigned huff, he set about cleaning up the war zone that they liked to call a living room. Empty cans, old ramen containers, and pizza boxes made it into the trash. Kuroo's multitude of old clothes were picked up at an arm's length and tossed haphazardly into his room. Two precarious stacks of books were upended and thrown into Kuroo's bedroom as well. The pain in the ass probably wouldn't even notice the new accumulation of mess.

After running through the room with a vacuum, Akaashi finally felt like it was safe to sit down. He sighed as he plopped onto the couch, but something beneath him crinkled. He hadn't sat on anything. Nor was he brave enough to reach under the cushion blindly. He'd made that mistake before, and he’d never forgive Kuroo for the handful of moldy sandwich he’d found.

Shuffling to the second cushion, Akaashi lifted the first and found a few things: yet another empty chip bag to add to the collection, an old test of Bokuto's with an enormous C plastered on the front, and a magazine.

It was all trash. They wouldn't miss any of it. Akaashi stuffed the test into the chip bag, then made to do the same with the magazine. But the cover made him freeze.

On it was a picture of a man and a woman, both fairly attractive. The woman was blonde, well endowed, with big blue eyes and full lips pouting at the camera as she tugged at the hem of her tiny skirt. The man was all hard edges, chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones that looked like they could cut glass. He was nicely muscular, and the tight pants he wore left little to the imagination.

The title across the top read "Can't Pick Just One."

Akaashi's gaze flicked toward the door, which was still firmly shut and locked, then back down at the magazine. It looked well worn. The edges were crimping, and the back cover was folded in half from being stuffed under the cushion.

Realistically, it could belong to either of the home's occupants. Kuroo had never made his bisexuality a secret, and Bokuto liked anyone and everyone—though he always joked that “Akaashis” were his favorite.

But really, it didn't matter who it belonged to. What mattered was Akaashi's mounting curiosity. His fingers wandered to the corner of the cover, peeling it back slowly. The page beneath it was black. Probably just an ad.

He was intrigued. And when Akaashi grew curious about something, it was generally impossible to quash that curiosity until he was satisfied.

So, with one last furtive glance at the still-locked door, he flicked the magazine open to the first page.

Ah. It _was_ an ad. For something called the “Beginner’s Anal Fantasy Kit.” There were anal beads, a beaded probe, a prostate stimulator, a plug, a finger sleeve, and what they called a prep kit with lube and cleaner. Akaashi’s eyebrows rose higher on his face as he scanned the page.

If there was any question before of what sort of magazine this was, he knew now.

He flipped through the next few pages, all of which were ads for more sex toys and a table of contents. The first page with any actual people contained a woman with brown hair in a schoolgirl uniform—well, the skirt at least. But her large chest was on full display as she leaned over a desk, making intense eye contact with the camera. On the next page, she was sitting on the desk with her legs crossed, and the next… Yikes.

He flipped forward a few more pages and found the man from the cover, wearing the same tight pants he’d been sporting there. He was holding a ruler in one hand, presumably smacking it against the palm of the other. The small smirk he wore was slightly off putting to Akaashi, but hey, maybe some people liked that. In fact, he thought that this man would probably do well with the shirtless woman on the page before.

He flicked to the next page, and… Oh… There they were—the shirtless woman sitting on the chiseled man’s lap. Even in a still picture, the fact that she was giving him a lapdance was obvious. The next few pages were the two of them in increasingly more compromising positions.

And then suddenly, their little arc was over. Now there was a new woman. This was the one from the cover, her voluminous blonde hair and striking blue eyes catching his attention immediately. She wasn’t wearing a uniform of any kind. Instead, it was lingerie.

The bra and panty set were a deep red—no, almost more burgundy. The material of the bra was sheer, leading to an intricate lace accent along the edges. And the panties were similar, sheer nylon covering the skin with a lace-trimmed hem that, upon closer inspection, looked to be a chain of roses. Those were attached to matching burgundy garters, which led down to matching stockings with that same rosy lace along the tops.

There was something about this page that prevented Akaashi from flipping to the next one—and as beautiful as she was aesthetically, it wasn’t the woman. No, this page seemed much more worn than the others. The edges were actually deteriorating from how many times it had probably been thumbed open. It was somehow more faded than the others too.

Whoever owned this magazine was particularly fond of this page.

To prove it, Akaashi flicked through the rest of the magazine. There were a few pages of the two women together, then the man and the two women, then a new man—this one with dark hair and wearing a tight pair of boxer-briefs—followed by the new man with one woman, then the other, then both, then just with the first man, and finishing off with all four of them together in a mess of body parts that looked almost like a Rorschach painting.

No other page was as well worn as that one.

Akaashi thumbed back to that page again, appraising the woman closely. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised to find out that this was Bokuto’s magazine—Bokuto was a man, after all; he had needs. And Akaashi had caught him watching porn before. Bokuto had been embarrassed enough to die, but Akaashi didn’t mind. There were plenty of worse things he could be doing.

But there was something about Bokuto opening the magazine to this page in particular, flipping past the others to stare at this woman with her perfect hair and her gorgeous figure and that sexy lingerie. It was different from picking a category and selecting a video at random, watching the ensuing action while going at himself. A pang of something went right to Akaashi’s stomach. It was hot and uncomfortable and deeply unsettling…

Ah. This was jealousy.

Akaashi had never experienced this feeling before. The occasion had of course arisen where he _could_ have been jealous. Bokuto had often been approached by other people—men and women alike were drawn to him, he was a charismatic guy. But he spent so much time talking about Akaashi to them without even thinking about it, they were just naturally driven off. Akaashi was plenty secure in their relationship.

But this felt different. He wanted to be the one in the picture that Bokuto flipped to time and time again, the picture he saved until it was faded and frayed. His finger traced the stockings up and down the woman’s legs, furrowing his brow in thought.

However, that thought didn’t last very long. Because at that moment, he heard the sound of a key scraping against the lock at the front door. Panic marred his features, and with a speed he didn’t know he possessed, he flipped the cushion next to him up, dropped the magazine, and covered it with the cushion once more. A second later, the door burst open.

“Akaaaaashiiiiii!”

Bokuto pounded over the threshold, kicked off his shoes, and crossed the room in a record minimum amount of strides. The full weight of his body fell on top of Akaashi, and the two of them dropped onto the couch in a horizontal heap. Bokuto nuzzled into his neck, peppering tiny kisses against Akaashi’s skin.

“Oi! No fooling around on the couch!”

Evidently Kuroo hadn’t been far behind Bokuto, and Akaashi glanced to his right to see the dark haired man in the entryway, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag on the floor.

“Do you not notice anything?” Akaashi asked pointedly.

“Other than the fact that the two of you are practically at second base and it’s been literally seven seconds?” Kuroo mused. He was sifting through a pile of mail in his hand, all of which ended up in a messy pile on the table.

Akaashi shoved Bokuto’s hand away as it attempted to creep beneath the hem of his shirt. “It is _clean_ ,” he retorted.

Kuroo glanced around curiously. “Huh… Guess you’re right,” he agreed. “Hey, where’s all my stuff?”

“I burned it,” Akaashi scoffed.

To his frustration, Kuroo just shrugged. “Probably needed it anyway,” he said as he headed into the kitchen, where Akaashi heard the distinct crack of a beer can opening.

“Heeeeeey, Akaashiiiiiiii,” Bokuto hummed, his lips suddenly near Akaashi’s ear.

“Yes?” Akaashi asked, trying not to sigh out his frustration with Kuroo.

“We get the apartment to ourselves all weekend,” Bokuto murmured. His breath sent a chill down Akaashi’s spine. “Kuroo’s gotta go home, so it’s just you and me.”

“Is that so?”

“We can do it on his bed if you want,” Bokuto chuckled, sending more shivers through Akaashi. “Revenge for making you clean up after him.”

“He’s probably got bedbugs,” Akaashi noted, pressing his own kiss into Bokuto’s hair, his fingers sliding up Bokuto’s arms. “But we can still have an enjoyable weekend.”

“Ohoho?”

“Don’t do that.”

Bokuto laughed again, wordlessly pressing more kisses down Akaashi’s neck. Akaashi ran his hands idly up and down Bokuto’s biceps. He was too distracted to even push Bokuto’s hand away as it slipped beneath his shirt and stroked against his hipbone. His mind was working, already formulating a plan to combat his jealousy.

“I swear to god, if you start dry humping each other, I’m flipping the couch,” Kuroo’s voice broke through the din.

This was enough to make Bokuto pull back and look over his shoulder at Kuroo, who had reappeared in the living room with a beer and granola bar. “Dry humping?” he repeated. “What are we, fourteen?”

“You’re making out on our couch in the middle of the afternoon with other people home,” Kuroo countered.

“You’re not _people_ ,” Bokuto scoffed, resting his head against Akaashi’s chest. “You’re Kuroo. You hear us messing around all the time.”

“And thank you for _that_ , by the way.”

“We should go to your room,” Akaashi said, pulling Bokuto’s attention back to him. “It won’t be long before Kuroo-san has this room looking like an active crime scene again.”

Bokuto hadn’t even heard the jib. He was too keen on the first part, and he was already climbing off of Akaashi, pulling the younger man to his feet before he’d even finished speaking.

“Can you at least use a gag or something?” Kuroo called after them. “I know you own one!”

“Put in your earplugs, bro!” Bokuto called over his shoulder, pulling Akaashi into the bedroom and slamming the door behind them.

…

It had been a whirlwind of a day. Akaashi rushed straight from his Friday morning class to the bus station, then spent the afternoon shopping, avoiding the pointed stares of the shop clerks as they followed him around the stores. It was embarrassing enough picking up the items off the racks, but other people watching made him want to sink into the floor.

Still, his nerves didn’t stop him from seeing this through. And by the end of the whole affair, he climbed back onto the train clutching a full bag in his sweaty palms.

The apartment was blissfully noisy when Akaashi stepped inside—a phrase he never thought he would utter before he met Bokuto.

And speaking of…

The man in question appeared from the doorway of the kitchen—or rather, his disembodied head did. And his face broke into a wide smile. “Welcome home, snookums,” he cooed.

“Please refrain from using that word ever again,” Akaashi murmured as he slid out of his shoes and stepped into the living room. “It’s the worst one yet.”

“Honey bear it is.”

Akaashi shook his head. “Second worst.”

“What’s in the bag?” Bokuto asked suddenly.

It was a futile effort, but Akaashi tried to hide the bag behind his body anyway—like that wasn’t suspicious at all. The rest of Bokuto’s body appeared, and he thundered down the hall. Wandering hands were reaching around Akaashi, grappling for the bag. He’d never been one to handle a surprise well.

“It’s a present!” Akaashi exclaimed. He knew the next step was Bokuto’s fingers digging into his sides, and he wanted to head that off quickly. “It’s for you, I bought it for you.”

Bokuto stilled, leaning back to get a proper look at Akaashi’s face. “Really?” he asked. “It’s not my birthday, right? OH GOD, DID I MISS OUR ANNIVERSARY?!”

“No,” Akaashi said furtively. “It was just… Something I wanted to do for you.”

Bokuto’s head tipped in confusion. Akaashi was always struck in these moments with the overwhelming desire to kiss his owlish companion. But he refrained.

“Do I get it now?” Bokuto said. “I don’t wanna wait.”

“If you give me ten minutes, then yes.”

It was like the sun had dawned inside the apartment as Bokuto’s excitement practically boiled over. “Yes, oh my god, yes!” he exclaimed. “I was gonna make dinner, but I’ll wait! Oh my god, I’m so excited!”

Akaashi wanted to tell Bokuto not to get too worked up, it probably wouldn’t be as big a surprise as he expected. But he knew that was a futile effort. Nothing would calm Bokuto down except actually seeing the “surprise.”

He left a practically levitating Bokuto in the living room and headed into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Maybe he should have asked for more than ten minutes. It had only taken him ten minutes to get himself situated at the store, but now his hands were fumbling and it seemed that he’d never be able to get into this ensemble in the time he had.

First was the lacy panties, which fit him probably a little too snug. He adjusted the material around his groin, trying to accommodate for the bulge that normally didn’t sit inside this particular undergarment. When he deemed that impossible, he instead moved on to the stockings. They too were burgundy, and they stretched all the way up to the middle of his thighs. The garters he hooked onto them attached to the underwear, holding the nylon material up a little better.

Then came the bra. It had proved to be his Everest at the store, and he wondered if he’d even be able to get it together in the back without Bokuto’s help. He slipped the garment up each arm, stretching the nylon across his chest.

“Are you almost done?” Bokuto’s muffled voice called suddenly from outside the door.

Akaashi’s hand fumbled with the clasp, and it slipped from between his fingers. “If you keep rushing me, I’ll never be done.”

“Akaashiiiiiiiiiii…”

By some stroke of luck, Akaashi managed to hook the bra together behind his back. Knowing Bokuto’s patience was close to its expiration, he took only a moment to appraise himself in the mirror. The bra was lace trimmed with what appeared to be burgundy vines. He hadn’t been able to find that particular rose trim, but this still worked. The material that covered his chest was nylon and sheer, opaque enough for Akaashi to see the outline of his nipples hardening in the cool air of the room. The panties matched the bra, lace trim around the edges and sheer nylon throughout. The garters and stockings were simple, no intricate patterns to them. He hadn’t been able to find a matching set on such short notice.

But as Bokuto huffed a sigh out in the hallway, Akaashi realized that the time to scrutinize himself had expired. He swallowed hard, then turned to face the door. “Alright,” he called. “You can come in.”

The door practically busted off its hinges as Bokuto threw it open and tumbled into the room. His gaze fell on Akaashi, and the smile melted from his face. It was almost comical, the way his jaw dropped like he was in a cartoon, freezing mid-stride and looking like he’d topple over any second. His eyes scanned up and down Akaashi, taking in the younger man with wide, golden eyes.

Well, the situation _might_ have been comical, if Akaashi could just read his expression.

And the longer the moment stretched on, the faster Akaashi’s already miniscule confidence faltered. Even if the magazine from yesterday was Bokuto’s, Akaashi didn’t look anything like the hot blonde inside. She filled everything out perfectly. And here was Akaashi, flat chested with underwear that didn’t fit, looking like a lunatic.

“It was… I mean, I thought…” Akaashi tried, grasping for something—anything—to break the tension.

And break the tension it did. Bokuto’s eyes snapped up to meet Akaashi’s, and the expression was more than readable now. Bokuto looked _hungry_. Like he might devour Akaashi right on the spot. His tongue darted out to glide across his parted lips, and the sight actually made Akaashi shiver.

“You’re just…” Bokuto murmured, taking a step forward. “God you look…” Another step. “So fucking good.”

It seemed that Akaashi had been holding his breath since Boktuo had crashed through the doorway, and it all came out in a huff. “Really?” he asked breathily.

Bokuto’s tongue was poking out from between his lips, the way it always did when he was concentrating. His eyes scanned over Akaashi’s outfit once more. A hand reached out, skimming along the lace hem of the panties. His index finger tucked inside, pulled at the fabric, and snapped it against Akaashi’s skin. “Fuck,” he sighed, as though the sound had jarred him. “You’re so hot…”

Feeling emboldened by the praise, Akaashi stepped forward so he was almost flush against Bokuto. He walked his fingers up the firm chest in front of him, hooking under Bokuto’s chin. “I hoped that you’d like it,” he purred. “But… There’s more to your present than just the view.”

“God I hope so,” Bokuto admitted.

“Go sit down on the bed,” Akaashi ordered.

Bokuto scrambled across the room and fell onto the bed gracelessly. Akaashi followed with a bit more tact. He dropped onto Bokuto’s lap, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of Bokuto’s hips. Bokuto’s hands were on him immediately, rough fingertips gliding along his thighs, under the garters, teasing him with their touch.

But Akaashi couldn’t get swept away yet. He wanted to be in control for just a little bit longer. He pressed his palms to Bokuto’s chest to steady himself. And then slowly, his hips rolled forward.

The effect was immediate, and as Akaashi pressed his hips to Bokuto’s, their cocks bumping against one another through the clothes, Bokuto hissed. Again, Akaashi undulated, and again, and again. Bokuto was already hard, and his fingers were digging into Akaashi’s waist, bringing the younger man forward just a little more forcefully.

“You like that?” Akaashi breathed. “Does that feel good?”

Bokuto grunted at the friction, managing a disjointed nod. “Fuck yeah… Look at you… Your little panties… Fuck…”

“You like them?” Akaashi asked, hips rocking even faster. “Really?”

“You look amazing in them… So sexy… Shit…”

Bokuto leaned forward, lips pressing heatedly against Akaashi’s skin. He kissed down Akaashi’s shoulder, his chest, eventually meeting the lace trim of the bra. Akaashi knew what was coming, and still he couldn’t prepare himself for the moment when Bokuto’s mouth closed around his nipple.

He threw his head back and moaned, hips falling out of rhythm. Bokuto took advantage of the situation to slide his fingers around Akaashi’s ass, dipping inside the fabric and gripping the cheeks hard. He brought Akaashi forward at a frenetic pace, sucking hard at the tender nub, soaking the material of the bra.

Akaashi could barely hold on to his sanity, not with how good Bokuto was making him feel. But he had to. He couldn’t get lost yet.

“Do you… _Ah_ … Do you have your phone?” he hissed.

“Pocket,” Bokuto mumbled around the nipple between his lips.

“Maybe you should… Should take a picture.”

That was enough for Bokuto to pull back and look up Akaashi with furrowed brows. “Wait… What?”

“I mean, if… If you want to,” Akaashi panted. He bit his lip nervously. “That way you can see it whenever you want. You don’t have to… To think about it. It’ll just be right there.”

“Is that… You’re okay with that?” Bokuto asked. If possible, his eyebrows seemed to knit together even closer.

Akaashi nodded. “If you want to,” he repeated.

“Hell yeah I do.”

Bokuto’s reaction was immediate, and he practically knocked Akaashi to the floor in his haste to pull his phone from his pocket. “Fuckin… Why do they gotta make this so complicated?” he asked as his shaking fingers tapped through the screens. “There should be a ‘Let me take hot pictures of my hot boyfriend in his hot outfit now’ button.”

“How do you want me?” Akaashi asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The suggestive tone made Bokuto shiver, and he looked up at Akaashi with lust-clouded eyes. “That’s… Probably your call, I guess. You could just, you know, do whatever.”

“Eloquent,” Akaashi teased.

“C’mon, do like they do on that top model show, work your angles and shit.”

Suppressing a chuckle, Akaashi stood up once more and took a few careful steps backwards. Bokuto made a victorious noise, evidently finding the camera app with an enormous amount of difficulty. He held the phone up in front of him. “Come on, angles, baby. Make love to the camera.”

“You’re an idiot,” Akaashi said, this time not bothering to hold back on the laughter.

But he was ready. He’d been waiting for this. He cocked his hip, arched his back and leaned forward. One hand reached up card through his hair. The other hovered just above a collarbone, fingers just barely grazing the flesh. His bottom lip pouted out, and he seared Bokuto with his gaze.

Just like the woman in the magazine.

He’d done his best to replicate her pose to the letter. Even if it wasn’t Bokuto’s magazine, even if he’d never seen the woman before, this pose would have to do something for him. Sure, Akaashi couldn’t fill out the ensemble as well as she could. But this was as close as he was going to get.

And judging by the repeated click of the camera and the spill of expletives from Bokuto’s lips, it had worked well enough.

“Christ, Akaashi, you’re so fucking sexy,” Bokuto said, thumb going crazy as he took picture after picture. “Seriously, how the fuck do you know just… Just what to… Fuck, you look so good.”

 _Good_ , Akaashi thought to himself. _Look at me. Just me_.

“Okay, c’mere,” Bokuto said with an air of finality, hurling his phone behind him and beckoning Akaashi back to the bed. “I can’t wait, fuck.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Akaashi asked, returning to his perch on Bokuto’s lap.

Bokuto wasted no time as he pulled Akaashi down onto the bed with him, rolling so he was on top. He pressed a hand to the mattress next to Akaashi’s head. His gaze was predatory.

“I think I’m gonna fuck you.”

Akaashi shuddered, the sound escaping his lips freely. He was ready to lose himself, to let Bokuto take control. His arms snaked up, fingers sliding into the short hairs at the base of Bokuto’s neck. “Please, Koutarou,” he sighed. “I can’t wait.”

It didn’t take more than that for Bokuto’s lips to crash down against his. Akaashi’s mouth opened without hesitation, welcoming the lithe glide of Bokuto’s tongue against his own. Bokuto’s hands were on the move. They slid down Akaashi’s sides, raising the skin beneath their touch. When Akaashi tugged on his hair once more, Bokuto’s touch grew more insistent. And when Akaashi bit down on his lip, Bokuto moaned.

“Please,” Akaashi breathed.

Bokuto didn’t answer, but instead pushed his hips forward again, grinding his length against Akaashi’s. Akaashi gasped loudly, the sound muffled as Bokuto resumed the frantic kiss.

A hand snaked between their bodies, and then it was palming against the front of Akaashi’s panties, making the younger boy keen. Bokuto grinned as he sucked on Akaashi’s lip.

“You’re gettin’ your panties all wet,” Bokuto cooed.

Akaashi opened his mouth to retort, but all the tumbled from it was a moan as Bokuto’s fingers wrapped around his cock over the nylon and lace. Akaashi had never felt anything like it, the rough lace dragging up his shaft with every pull from Bokuto’s hand. Harried grunts were all he could manage as Bokuto dragged the nylon over the head of his cock.

And then the bed was creaking beneath him, but Akaashi couldn’t care, not with how good he felt. Bokuto was moving them up the mattress, his hand still curled around Akaashi’s cock. Maybe Akaashi could have been a little more helpful. But he was completely lost.

“God, you’re soaked…” Bokuto mumbled, awestruck.

“Please,” Akaashi whispered breathlessly. “Lube… Now…”

He wasn’t sure when Bokuto had retrieved it from the side table, or maybe he’d somehow procured it from thin air. But it was only a second before Akaashi heard the familiar click of the bottle opening, the wet sound of lube squirting onto Bokuto’s fingers.

“Lift your legs,” Bokuto mumbled.

Akaashi complied immediately, propping his feet up flat on the mattress and tilting his hips upward. It was just enough space for Bokuto to push the panties aside and slide his glistening fingers along Akaashi’s twitching hole. Akaashi felt his entire body tremble at the sensation.

Slick digits pressed just above his hole, just below, swirled around it, made Akaashi’s hips jump forward.

“Don’t tease me,” Akaashi hissed. “I c— _ahhhhhh_ ,” he was cut off as Bokuto pressed a single finger inside him, burying the digit all the way to the knuckle.

Slowly but efficiently, Bokuto began working Akaashi’s tight hole open. A second finger soon joined the first, and they were scissoring and curling, stretching Akaashi as wide as he could go.

And oh, Akaashi was inconsolable. His chest heaved as his frantic cries filled the room, begging Bokuto to stop, to not stop, go faster, go slower. And when Bokuto tapped his fingers against Akaashi’s prostate, Akaashi thought he was falling apart.

“E-enough,” Akaashi panted. “It’s enough. I want… I want you…”

“You want me to what?” Bokuto teased, tapping against Akaashi’s prostate once more.

Akaashi gave a full-body tremor. He thought he might actually vibrate out of his skin. “I want you to fuck me,” he shuddered.

“As long as we can keep the panties on.”

Akaashi winced as Bokuto withdrew his fingers. Then his brows came together. “You’ll get them even dirtier,” he scoffed.

“Oho honey bear,” Bokuto’s face broke into a grin. “These can’t get much dirtier than they already are.”

Akaashi glanced down for confirmation. Even from here, he could see the dark stain of precum in the sheer nylon. That would be a bitch to clean.

And Akaashi had planned on keeping them on anyway.

“I suppose if you _really_ want to fuck me in them,” Akaashi hummed in thought.

“I’ve never wanted to do anything more,” Bokuto admitted.

There was a frantic whirlwind of movement from Bokuto, his shirt flying across the room, pants coming off with a little more grunting than necessary. He rooted around in the side table for a condom, ripping the foil open with his teeth and sliding it onto his cock in one fluid motion.

“You’re getting very good at all that,” Akaashi noted.

Bokuto grinned down at him, crawling forward so he was settled comfortably between Akaashi’s legs. “Practice makes perfect.”

“We do plenty of that, don’t we?” Akaashi asked.

Bokuto just laughed. Even if he could deny it, he wouldn’t. The familiar click sounded once again, and Bokuto smeared a generous amount of lube onto his cock. He slid Akaashi’s underwear to the side again, gripping the base of his cock and lining it up with Akaashi’s dripping hole.

Akaashi could almost feel his heart hammering in his chest, blood roaring past his ears. There was only a moment, and then Bokuto slid inside him.

An animalistic growl from Bokuto’s throat joined in with Akaashi’s frantic cry. His nails were already digging into Bokuto’s back, clawing at the skin he could reach. It was so tight, so hot. He could feel himself adjusting, and then Bokuto was moving, pulling out, pushing in, shallow thrusts that earned pinched gasps from high in Akaashi’s chest.

“You look so good like this,” Bokuto huffed, thrusting a little deeper. “So beautiful… Dressed up… Just for me…”

“Just… _God_ ,” Akaashi grunted as Bokuto canted his hips forward with a rough snap. “Just for you.”

Bokuto leaned forward, pressing a hot, wet kiss to Akaashi’s shoulder. He followed the bra strap down to the neglected nipple, pulling it between his lips and flicking his tongue against the hard bud.

Akaashi’s back arched off the mattress from the combined sensations of Bokuto’s mouth and his cock, now thrusting into Akaashi at a relentless pace.

Bokuto’s teeth toyed with the nipple, eyes peering up at Akaashi to watch his pleasurable expression. “You know,” he said, pulling back. “I feel like… This is like a test or… or something.”

Akaashi hadn’t realized his eyes were closed, but he opened them to find Bokuto staring at him speculatively. How could he do that without even slowing his thrusts? Akaashi felt like he was crumbling. “It’s not,” he gasped.

“Are you sure?” Bokuto asked.

“I just… I want you to think of me,” Akaashi admitted, trying to hold on to his sanity. “The next time you… You think about lingerie…  The next time you… I just want you to think about me.”

Judging by the furrow of his thick brows, it was clear that Bokuto was confused. But still, he didn’t slow his thrusts. In fact, he was getting faster.

With a particularly angled snap of his hips, he pressed against Akaashi’s prostate. Akaashi came undone immediately, a shout ripping from his throat. His nails scraped up Bokuto’s back, leaving welts in their wake.

“I will,” Bokuto huffed suddenly.

“W-what?” Akaashi gasped.

One of Bokuto’s hands was snaking between them again, and Akaashi didn’t realize how touch-starved he was until the hand slipped beneath the underwear and wrapped around his cock. He shouted again, this one burning his throat as it filled the space of the room.

“I’m always gonna think about you,” Bokuto grunted. “About how hot you look… About the panties, _god_ , the fuckin’ panties.”

“K-Koutarou, I… I can’t,” Akaashi whimpered.

“I’m gonna cum every time, just thinking about you,” Bokuto pressed on, his voice trembling. The slap of his hips against Akaashi’s was loud enough to echo off the walls. “Just you, Keiji. I always do. Always you… Fuck!”

Akaashi was convulsing, his body rocking with the impetus of Bokuto’s thrusts. Bokuto’s hand fell out of rhythm as he lost himself. Harried words of praise tumbled from his lips, sighed against Akaashi’s skin like promises.

“Koutarou!” Akaashi shouted, choking around the syllables. “Harder, yes, yes, right… Yes, there, I’m… I’m— _ahhhh_!”

It didn’t take more than a few thrusts dragging against his prostate for Akaashi to cum hard, screaming Bokuto’s name and decidedly ruining the underwear forever.

Bokuto groaned, a pained sound that Akaashi knew meant he was close. “Fuck, Keiji, fuck, you get so tight when you… Fuck, I can’t—“

“Cum,” Akaashi gasped, still reeling hard.

Bokuto buried his face in Akaashi’s shoulder, teeth biting into the skin to muffle his feral growl. The fingers of his free hand grappled for something to hold on to, finally winding around the fabric of the panties. And then he came hard with a grunt, and the air was rent with a loud ripping sound.

Akaashi felt like his blood was on fire, still shouting as he rode out the last of his orgasm. Stars dotted Akaashi’s vision, and he thought for a moment he might actually faint from the pleasure.

It wasn’t until Bokuto’s hips stuttered to a stop that Akaashi finally began to come down from his high. Bokuto’s softening cock slid out, and Akaashi gasped.

“Sorry,” Bokuto huffed.

“So good,” Akaashi breathed, trying to pull air into his burning lungs. “So… Good…”

“I ripped them,” Bokuto mumbled.

Akaashi looked down and saw the tattered remains of the cum-stained underwear sitting limply on his pelvis. Lost in his orgasm, Bokuto had split them cleanly down one side. “Oh…”

“Oh god,” Bokuto’s voice rose in a panic. “I can pay you back for them, I’m so sorry! Oh no, did I ruin the night? I didn’t—“

“I bought them for you,” Akaashi cut him off. “You were free to do whatever you wanted with them.”

“Oh…”

Bokuto rolled off of Akaashi, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thump. He stared at the ceiling, and it seemed as though he was deep in thought.

“You’ll hurt yourself if you think too hard,” Akaashi noted, wincing again as he rolled onto his side. He peeled the underwear off and dropped them onto the floor behind him.

“I’m gonna remember this for the rest of my life,” Bokuto sighed blissfully

“Did you… Did you think there was anything… Particularly interesting about my outfit?” Akaashi asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Bokuto actually snorted derisively as he turned his head to look at Akaashi. “You’re kidding, right? Like… Are you serious? I mean… You’re always doing stuff to surprise me, but then you do this, and like… I just really love you Keiji,” he said as he leaned forward to press a kiss to Akaashi’s lips.

Akaashi’s eyes narrowed as he watched Bokuto closely. “Nothing familiar about it though?” he pressed.

Bokuto looked confused again. “What… What do you mean?”

Akaashi studied Bokuto’s eyes, looking for any sign of recognition, any hint that this had brought back memories of his most cherished magazine insert. But there was nothing. And Bokuto had never been able to lie to him.

So the magazine really wasn’t his.

Oops.

Well, at least Bokuto had enjoyed it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Akaashi murmured.

Bokuto tilted his head back so he was looking at the wall behind them. “I think,” he said, raising his hands for emphasis, “I’ll get that picture of you framed.”

Akaashi’s mind jumped to the real owner of the magazine, the one who had actually stuffed the magazine under the couch cushion, who lived one room over and made it a habit of storming into Bokuto’s room when he wanted company. “That,” Akaashi said firmly, “is a very bad idea.”

“Then maybe I’ll just get the panties dry cleaned and frame them,” Bokuto suggested.

“That’s somehow worse.”

“Come ooooooon,” Bokuto whined, knocking his head against Akaashi’s shoulder. “For my birthday or something? Maybe throw in the garters too?”

“I think the picture is enough,” Akaashi replied.

“I guess,” Bokuto conceded. “And hey, my birthday’s comin’ up, right? Maybe we could… I dunno… Try it again?”

Akaashi grinned as he looked over at his boyfriend. “Maybe I’ll make _you_ wear them instead.”

Akaashi wished that now _he_ had a camera, because Bokuto’s expression was priceless.


End file.
